


wear your heart on your skin

by AuburnWolf



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2020-11-27 03:07:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20941259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuburnWolf/pseuds/AuburnWolf
Summary: drabbles and things about my other fave otp.i do not own anything, george does. i write in bad english. i try





	1. I am alive, and drunk on sunlight

They’ve managed to survive, somehow. It was impossible to explain, too much to relive…or maybe he just wanted to forget. Pain. He remembered to have felt pain…and fear. Fear was something men often feel, but aren’t brave enough to admit. But he wasn’t like other men and no man was like him, still, he had been scared. 

He remembered how the sky was dark, and the air reeked with that strong sting of burnt flesh and blood. Ashes had fallen slowly, around them, like a ghastly snow. He had been sure the Dragon Queen would have burnt them all, in the end. He couldn’t trust her, because he was sure, given the occasion, she would have fucked them all. He could recognize those eyes, he had seen them in his sister, the last time they shared the bed. He had seen them for long time, if he had to be honest with himself, but like all the others around her, he had refused to admit she was sliding into madness. 

He could still feel how fear crawled under his skin, how he was afraid that those demons from the Seven Hells could jump out from nowhere and kill him or Brienne and the kid, and how he was worried every second that those gaunt beasts could gather up in the crypts and kill his little brother and her. He couldn’t give a single thing to everyone else, women, children and elders – nice knight’s honour, he smirked to himself – but he had been constantly afraid to lose her. He knew Snow’s idea was doomed from the beginning, but he was a Lannister, a traitor, the black sheep and so he had to agree to this. 

They wounded him, he still managed somehow to keep fighting, bleeding, holding his Sword with his left hand. He managed to go on for her, to see her blue eyes and her smile, that lightened his days. He remembered how he promised to himself to kill Snow if something would have happened to his sweet Sansa. 

Jaime couldn’t even tell how it started. He only knew she hated to see him in Winterfell, cold as ever, and he, proud as ever, reacted arrogantly when he felt she threatened her sister and his family. But, day after day, he could see how that was only a facade and the sweet girl was still under that steel stunning strong-willing witty woman she had become. His son and his sister tried to break her, but still she was there, resilient. He listened to rumours and he had been told stories, and understood what she had to suffer, during the years. Somehow, silently, he started to be there for her, letting her time to trust him. And that happened. At first she couldn't stand him being around and trying to be gentle. She couldn't trust him. She couldn't trust a Lannister, but with a little help from Tyrion, she let him in. He talked to her about Cersei, she told him everything she had to endure from Joffrey and the Kingsguard, to Petyr and Ramsey. He couldn't even explain why, but he wanted to be there for her, to soothe her, to protect her, to make her feel loved.

He could remember the night before the battle, when they were afraid to die and to not see each other anymore. She took him by his hand and brought him the her late father's solar. He smiled thinking what would have Stark thought about this, but she shook him from his thoughts and tentatively closed the distance between them, placing, gently, her soft plump lips against his. Sansa stayed there in silence, looking for something in his eyes and Jaime's heart leaped thinking how he had cupped her face with his hand and kissed her back, rougher, deeper, tasting lemon on her lips and her tongue. They stayed there in silence, Sansa in his arms, her head resting on his heart, while he whispered promises to her hair. 

They’ve managed to survive, somehow. And he kept those promises. He would have a lot to explain to Stark, the Dragon freak, his lunatic sister and everyone else, but still he wante to keep those promises. He knew Tyrion would have smirked and wanted to know everything. But these were problems he wanted to pospone. He promised. He would have fought and come back to her, he would have loved her untile his beating heart let him. See Catelyn? I can keep an oath, when it's worth it. 

He was staring her, barely covered, in her bed. She was splendid. Sheets and furs were embracing her curves delicately. She was staring back at him, her red plump lips parted, eyes still filled with lust and what he knew was love. Her auburn mane shining bright in the sunlight. The sun was kissing her skin, making that porcelain treat looking even more regal, and he found himself to be jealous of the sun, which was kissing every inch of that body he wanted to worship, again.   
He was too equally naked and smiling at her. She looked at him puzzled, as if she wanted to know why he was grinning.

"I'm alive and drunk on sunlight, my little wolf"


	2. queens do not weep so weakly

She was crying sitting on the throne. It was dark, deep in the night, and she was crying sitting on the throne, still wearing her crown.  
She was crying for her family. Because they weren’t there to see what she has become, because she missed them so deeply it hurt to think about it. She thought of her father, the one who really loved her. His words, his lessons, family’s history and traditions. It all came back, while she was caressing the weirwood branches growing on her breastplate, like an armor. 

She thought of Jon, caressing the fur on her cloak, now far from her and she thought how she was going to bring him back home, when things would have calmed down. She must bring him home. He was her family, he was…he was something she would have never named out loud, but she felt her stomach funny anyway. 

She closed her eyes and pictured in front of her Bran and Rickon, still cubs, running everywhere and playing knights. Rickon, his curly hair falling down on his eyes, sweaty and wild, and Bran, so serious, so methodic, jumping around, with grace. She thought of Arya, so brave, so strong, a woman she respected, a woman she was proud of. She held her needle necklace in her hand and moved it to her mouth, to place a soft kiss on it. “I have my needle, you have yours. We’re different but that doesn’t mean we are not both strong”. Arya’s words echoed in her mind. She swiped away a tear, falling down her cheek. Where would she be now? Will she ever come back home? Of course, she would. Her adventurer would have feel homesick and come back home to her. She would. And then she cried softly for the childhood they never had. 

She took her crown from her head and stared at it. She thought of Robb, too proud, too confident. His perfect smile and how every girl swooned when he was around, even poor sweet Jeyne. “I’ll follow your path, I’ll make you proud of me”, caressing the direwolves engraved on it. She thought of Lady, her sweet Lady, too kind, too trustful. You paid for my mistakes, and I learned that day, I learned even for you.

She brushed her hair with her fingers. Finally her auburn was back and glorious. Her hair, simple, plain, long, were covering and embracing her like her mother’s hug. She thought of her mother, and how she was looking even more like her, day by day. She thought of how proud she was to be even a trout, how proud she was of her and her uncle Blackfish. She had more water in her than winter, they always said. And they were wrong. She was half and half, and proud of it. Both lethal, both swift with her mind.   
She kept caressing her hair. Plain. Nobody understood her decision. No braids, no updos. Just plain and straight. She copied everyone during her life. Her mom with her northern braids, Queen Cersei with her elaborate updos, Margaery with her soft swirls and curls, Daenerys, the braided warrior. But she decided finally to ber herself, in charge, simple, beautiful and free. 

She was proud to be the Queen and proud to be a Stark. But she was the last Stark in Winterfell, and she wanted everyone to be proud of her. She outlived and outsmarted everyone, even if nobody would have believed it. But she missed everyone and this broke her heart. She let out a higher sob and finally her personal guard, came out from the shadows.   
She let out another sob, this time because she didn’t want him to see her like that. She was a Queen, she didn’t want to be weak. Sansa didn’t know why Jaime chose to stay to Winterfell. He came, he fought with them, he want back to King’s Landing to kill his twin sister, to set himself free he said, free from something that controlled me and hurt me as I hurt her, he said. You can understand me, I believe, he said. And she trusted him, and believe him. And he came back to her, to protect her as he promised to Catelyn, because he wanted to do that thing right. He came back and he changed, and they formed a strange team, but it worked, somehow. 

He smirked at her, some things never change – Sansa thought – and swiped away her tears, gently, with his good hand. He lingered on her cheek and she cupped his hand, staying that way for a while.   
“Queens don’t cry, I know”, she said blushing.  
“No, everyone cries. Yes, even I do. Even queens cry and that’s good because you have to make them see you’re like them. But queen do not weep so weakly. They utter a full deep cry, so that everyone knows that even if queens are like them, and even if they seem frail, their voices never are, so that they can make their voice stand above the others, where they belong. You have to make them hear you roar, Little wolf”  
She looked at him, nodding, feeling even more hotness inside her. They stayed like that for a while, in silence, holding each other. “I’m no lion”- Sansa said smirking, in the end.  
“Not yet” – Jaime said, winking at her, kissing her hand.


End file.
